


Thinking Out Loud

by casualsaturdays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disabled Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27768991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualsaturdays/pseuds/casualsaturdays
Summary: The neurologist called it aphasia.Dean called it a sick joke. Or he would, if he could manage to get the words out.-or-S14 canon divergence where Michael leaves Dean with some brain damage when he gets out of the fridge in his head.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jack killed Michael before Michael massacred the other hunters in the Bunker because I said so. Other than that, canon-compliant through 14x14 Ouroboros.

The neurologist called it aphasia.

Dean called it a sick joke. Or he would, if he could manage to get the words out.

Michael, evidently harboring some bitterness over being trapped in the cage in Dean’s head and a remarkable grasp of irony, decided to leave Dean with just enough brain damage so he lost his ability to communicate, but not so much as to make him unaware of this new reality. Trapped within the confines of his own mind. Again. Poetic.

Dean could talk, and the words sounded right to him coming out of his mouth, but according to Sam, what came out was gibberish. Writing wasn’t any better. They tried everything from speech therapy to angelic healing to enlisting Rowena for help, but apparently archangel trumps magic and modern medicine. With one dead end after another, Dean eventually stopped talking.

The one good thing to come out of this situation was Cas moving into the bunker full-time. Being able to communicate without having to speak certainly had its perks.

With Sam, on the other hand, things were more strained than usual. Patience is a virtue, and not one that either brother has in spades. Between Dean’s guilt over Michael getting lose, Sam’s frustration at not being able to fix Dean, and Cas being stuck in the middle, speaking for Dean, tensions were high when the three were in the same room.

So they tried to avoid being in the same room at the same time.

When Sam takes a step back from fieldwork, organizing the Bunker into a kind of dispatch and a resource center for hunters in need of lore or a bed and a hot meal, and teaching Jack to do the same, Dean tries to stay out of the way. Maintaining an FBI cover on a case isn’t exactly easy when you can’t talk, and the damaged language-processing part of his brain makes research more cumbersome than usual.

Dean wasn’t exactly rolling in positive self-worth before the whole Michael situation, and this feeling of uselessness around Sam and other hunters wasn’t helping any, so Dean spent more and more time away from the Bunker, going out with a destination in mind or just driving for the sake of driving. And of course, he took Cas with him.

At first, he felt the need to justify this. Dean could handle himself just fine, thank you very much, but going out in public, it certainly didn’t hurt to have someone along who could communicate with words as opposed to vaguely pointing and gesturing.

_Hey Cas, I’m going out to grab some grub, you mind coming along? Give me a hand putting in the order?_

Or, _Cas, you busy? I have to run into town for some errands and could use some help._

Eventually, Dean dropped the pretense. He liked spending time with Cas, and didn’t need to validate that to himself or anyone else. Which led to more and more,

_Cas, wanna go for a drive?_

Sometimes they spent the whole time chatting, or whatever you would call a half-verbal, half-telekinesis conversation. Other times they listened to music or sat in comfortable silence. Sometimes they drove for hours, stopping at a drive-thru somewhere along the way, eating in the car. But more often than not, Dean would find somewhere to pull off the road, and, weather permitting, they’d just spend an hour or a few hanging out. These were Dean’s favorites.

It’s not like Dean hasn’t seen nearly every corner of this country, almost 40 years on the road all but guaranteed this. But these moments when it was just him and Cas, with no monster to hunt, no case to solve, no one chasing him, that Dean could really relax. Take in the scenery, spend time with his best friend, and enjoy the moment.

Today was not one of those days.

Cas knew Dean well enough to know when he was in a mood. If the gruff _Cas, you coming?_ sent his way as Dean stormed past towards the garage was any indication, something must have set Dean off.

Cas also knew Dean well enough to know that, when he got like this, Dean just had to get it out of his system. Play his music a little too loud, drive a little too fast. These were the only times Dean spoke verbally – thinking loudly just didn’t have the same effect. The words that came out still didn’t make sense, but they didn’t need to, for Dean or Cas.

So when Dean abruptly pulled over after about half an hour of fuming, rested his head against the steering wheel, Cas was a little surprised.

After a moment, Dean sat back, dragged his hands down his face, and took a breath to collect himself. _Cas, I can’t keep doing this, man._

Another pause, another sigh, Cas waited patiently, letting Dean process his thoughts.

_Cas, I think I need to move out. Of the Bunker. It’s just, there’s so many people there and I’m so fucking sick and tired of being in the way. I can’t hunt and I can’t help and I know that, but I don’t need to be reminded of it every goddamn day._

Banging his hands against the steering wheel, Dean gets out of the car and starts pacing along the side of the road. Cas gives him a second before following him out.

“Dean, you have to know, no one thinks of you that way,” Cas pauses, “But I understand. When I was human, when my grace was failing, when I couldn’t heal you or your brother. I felt useless. I felt like a burden.” Dean has stopped pacing at this point, looking like he’s about to object, but Cas cuts him off.

“Maybe some time away from it all would help. A vacation, at least. Take some time for yourself. You’ve earned it.”

 _Hey, Cas, look. I-, I don’t want to go off alone. I’m not going anywhere without you, you should know that by now. I told you I need you and I meant it, man. I’m not- I_ can’t _lose you again._

“Dean,” The soft look in Cas’ eyes stops Dean’s rambling, “I’m not going anywhere. Of course I’ll go with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was ready to leave the life behind. If he was being honest with himself, he’s been ready for some time, but then again Dean could fill a book with the lies he tells himself.

Had he known how good it could be, he would have hung it up years ago. He and Cas spent some time traveling at first, but after everything, Dean was tired of life on the road. They returned to the Bunker and Sam had it running like a well-oiled machine. Hunters coming and going, manning phone lines posing as supervisors of the FBI, Marshals, ATF, EPA and any other agencies to corroborate covers for hunters in the field, others poring over tomes, collecting and sharing tips and hunting stories, and ultimately growing the Bunker’s already comprehensive collection of lore.

It was quite a feat, this network Sam built, and Dean was proud of him. For Dean, however, the Bunker just didn’t feel like home anymore. So he packed up the essentials, which wasn’t too much, when it came down to it, and he and Cas hit the road again.

They stopped somewhere in northern Colorado when they saw a for sale sign – a little over thirty acres of undeveloped land in the mountains – and cashed out some of those investment accounts and fake savings Charlie set up way back when. It turns out that the construction skills Dean’s picked up over the years, combined with Cas’ super-strength, made them a pretty good team.

And working with his hands, doing something productive rather than destructive, Dean was feeling better than he had in a long time, despite the aches and pains.

The fact that he and Cas could work together seamlessly, to build this house, their home, together, was just the cherry on top.

Once the house was finished, they built a garage. Dean could never let go of his Baby, but it admittedly wasn’t the most practical vehicle for this terrain. Then they put up a workshop, so Dean could continue building, crafting.

And in exchange, Dean built a garden for Cas. Truth be told, he’d choose tilling garden beds over digging up graves any day, and while Dean would never admit it, he actually likes eating vegetables knowing how much care Cas put into growing them. He built bee boxes, too, remembering how much Cas had enjoyed following the bees, collecting honey.

They got into a routine. Dean would never get tired of waking up in Cas’ arms, or with Cas in his arms. The angel didn’t need to sleep, but Dean slept better when Cas was there, had fewer nightmares, so of course Cas obliged.

Jack had his own bedroom, spending about half his time with Cas and Dean and the other half with Sam. They kept the guest room ready for visitors. Sam swung by every once in a while, when he could spare a few days away from the Bunker. Claire would drop by for a visit if she was on a hunt in the area, or if the drama in Sioux Falls got to be too much. Whether they had their extended family over or had the house to just the two of them, Cas and Dean had never been happier.

Aside from the time spent on their individual hobbies – Dean holed up in his workshop, listening to music, working on his latest project, and Cas in his garden, weeding and pruning and inspecting his beehives – they were nearly inseparable. Both having lost the other a few too many times, there was a silent assurance in Dean’s hand resting on the Cas’ knee while drinking coffee in the morning, in Cas’ arm around Dean’s back when they went into town, in Dean practically lying on top of Cas when they curled up to watch a movie after a long day. Each touch a reminder, a promise:

_I’m here._

_I’m yours._

_I’m not going anywhere._

_I love you._


End file.
